When In America
by BeyondTheClouds
Summary: English journalist Arthur Kirkland is given a once-in-a-lifetime oppurtunity when his boss promises hefty rewards to go to America and create a newspaper article packed with facts, pictures, stories, all about Alfred F. Jones- the infamous, troublesome cowboy. Now he has to compete with other journalists, vengeful Americans, and even the law to try and protect what he left behind.


**A/N: What in the hell... I leave fanfiction for a month and I feel like I've never been on this site in my whole life. Anyhow, if you read my other England and America fic, and are reading this one, I have no idea when I'll next update it. I'm writing this one on a sudden burst of imagination.**

**I have no idea if Sweetwater, Virginia is a real place or not. I took the name Sweetwater out of a book called _Flygirl_, it was a small town in Texas with a womens Military Air Force base in it. Pendleton... is a town in my state, but I decided to make it a state in Kentucky to. :)**

**Hatfield and McCoys really did happen, I love the History Channel show they made off of it, so... yeah.**

**I don't own nothing.**

**...**

If you go to a small town known as Sweetwater, Virginia, walk into any of the bars there, and say the words, "Tell me something of Alfred F. Jones," there would be a whole lot of something's instantly shouted around.

Some would say to watch out for him, because if he even caught you looking in his direction the wrong way, he would use one bullet from his pistol to make you feel like he used ten.

Others said he was as sweet as a cherry tree, wouldn't even hurt a fly buzzing around his face for hours on end. They said he had a smile that would make you feel like you were watching the sun, so bright and happy only unlike the sun you didn't want to look away if it became.

Other's said he was a young boy who didn't have any parents to teach him better, so it wasn't his fault he was so unruly and wild. They said they felt sorry for him.

Then there were the people that said if Alfred would turn his life around he really could become what he boasts about, a memorable American hero.

As it was in that town, and every other number of towns you could count on your fingers within a 50-mile radius, the same number of people that would put a good word out for him would deny it and demand somebody put him in jail.

Arthur Kirkland just so happened to be the English journalist sent from his home country to America, to get every word he could on this infamous country boy, sketch a few pictures, maybe (hopefully) meet him in person and then print and publish a damn good paper that would be selling for months on end.

His boss promised him a whole three month's pay, a free vacation, as well as a few other things he desperately needed. Needless to say, it was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

Unfortunately, even in this famous boys hometown, he couldn't get much more on what sounded to him like lies and stories to pass the time.

The only thing he knew for sure were his parents were dead with no other family to speak off, and that he hasn't stepped foot in Sweetwater since his eleventh birthday.

Arthur was a relatively patient man, but he'd been in America, in Virginia, for nearly two and a half weeks and hadn't gotten more than that.

But apparently, the man who was drinking himself stupid ever since Arthur said the words "my" and "treat", didn't seem to think that was all the truth there was to it.

"Then that damn boy went off and shot all my cattle after he opened them doors. I had nearly thirty in that coral, but come morning I had only twelve. Then when my daughter was acting all suspicious like, I asked her and I said "Mary, did that boy touch you?" and she said, "No sir." Two days later, I caught them in the act, in me and my wives bed! I'll be damned if I see either of their faces in Virginia again!" The man laughed and slammed his glass on the table.

"Yes, well, that's quite… unfortunate."

Word in Europe was that Americans were extremely developed in technology and education, but here he was, barley able to understand a word out of their mouth.

A lady clinging to a man's arm a few feet away walked over, joining the conversation. Arthur suppressed a groan of annoyance.

"I believe you. Likely the same boy who sinned with your daughter killed my pa."

"Likely."

He wasn't sure if he found this "Southern" accent to be endearing and warm or stupid and uneducated. Maybe it was a bit of both.

"Right, Charles, was it? You told me that Alfred was last spotted in Texas?"

"I did."

"No sir." The woman interrupted. The man on her arm, as it appeared, seemed very embarrassed of his… ladies boldness. "Word around town is that he was spotted in Pendleton, Kentucky. Said he was spotted with his gun firing in a man's mouth before disappearing through the woods. Darn scary, being so close to us."

This perked Arthur's interest. Kentucky wasn't as far away as Texas, at least he thought so. If this lady was telling the truth…

"Ma'am, how long would it take by horseback to get to Kentucky?" Arthur spoke up.

The two, who were engaged in a deep conversation, snapped their head up, and stared at him like he asked if they had a train ticket to Australia.

"Oh, um, well, it'll be nearly three days ride to West Virginia, then another two to get to Pendleton, but I'm not sure if you'll be able to get through West Virginia safely… Lord knows what those Hatfield's and McCoy's are up to lately. Did you hear that three of the McCoy's leader's sons killed the bastard boy's father? I can't remember their names…"

Arthur had gradually heard less and less of their conversation, for he was walking out the door of the tavern and headed to his horse.

"Pendleton, Kentucky, eh…"

He smiled to himself, hopped on his horse, and proceeded to unfold his map to locate the town he was headed to.


End file.
